Games
by LOTR-nutcase
Summary: Lothiriel loves Eomer from afar...and tries everything she can think of to gain his attention without letting him know it!
1. The Setup

Author's Note: Ah, once again, this is what happens when I watch 'Troy.' Come one, I've got to do something to get the images of Eric Bana shirtless out of my head…! ;)

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No matter how many times Lothiriel told herself it was hopeless, her heart refused to listen.

Each night when she crawled into the fur-covered bed and stared out the window at the clear, gem-like stars twinkling down at her from the Northern sky, she recited in her head all the reasons why she should not fall in love with them. Then, undoubtedly, she would scoff at her feelings, berating herself for even entertaining the notion that her infatuation was anything like that pure, all-encompassing emotion that was love.

_And anyway,_ she would finish off with a sigh, rolling over and closing her eyes as she clutched a pillow to her breast, _it doesn't matter whether I love him or not. I haven't the slightest chance of ever being more than a friend to him._

But the next morning, without fail, she would think of him and take extra time dressing her hair, or wear one of her nicer, newer gowns instead of a work dress, or experiment with some of the face powders and paints she had smuggled out of that little shop in Edoras and that would cause Hysel, her ladies' maid, to die of shock if they were found in her chamber. Then, once she had chided herself for being so silly as to think an extra minute of primping would make any difference and finally went down to breakfast, she would hear his name and her ears would perk towards the speaker. Worst of all, she might see him.

Then, oh, then the fun _really_ began! If their eyes met she blushed. If he spoke to her, she tried not to look at him, instead staring down at her feet or over his shoulder, giving the man the impression that she was, at best, shy, or at worst, didn't like him.. But eventually he would go about his business, leaving her to fritter away the day analyzing every word he said, looking for hidden meanings (often found only to be debunked later when more rational thinking took over) and agonizing over every inane, obvious thing that had come out of her mouth.

Only one person was priviledged to know of Lothiriel's pain, and if Lothiriel had had her way, even _she_ wouldn't have found out. It had been a complete accident.

"Eowyn…tell me what it's like to be in love." The conversation occurred not two weeks after Lothiriel's arrival at Meduseld to aid her future cousin-in-law with preparations for her wedding. They were walking outdoors, under those wonderfully vibrant stars in the vegetabble garden behind the Hall. Lothiriel thought she was being clever by asking what it was like to be in love rather than the more obvious 'how do I know when I'm in love.'

"Why don't you tell me what your symptoms are, instead, and I'll tell you if we have any in common." Eowyn answered with a smile.

All right, not so clever after all. "I- - I don't know what you mean…" Lothiriel hedged. "You think I've fallen in love with…someone?" She tried her best to look innocently puzzled.

Eowyn chuckled. "You've been dreamy ever since we arrived. Don't think I haven't noticed! So who is it?"

"Blast. Am I that obvious? Here I thought I was being such a good actress, and you've gone and seen right through me. By the Valar!" Lothiriel's eyes widened with fear. "That means _he's_ probably noticed, as well!" She began pacing between the cabbage beds and the squash hills.

"Don't worry. I haven't the faintest idea who you're so hung up on, and if I haven't guessed he certainly hasn't, unless you've said something to him, because I've been watching you like a hawk! Who is he?"

"I'm not going to tell you!"

"Why not?"

"Because!"

Eowyn crossed her arms. "That's not a good enough reason."

"You might tell him."

"Of course I won't. Not if you don't want me to."

"Will you swear?" Lothiriel looked at her friend gravely.

"If I must." Eowyn sighed dramatically. "I promise not to tell this mystery man that you are in love with him unless you say I can, or unless I know, without a doubt, that it will benefit your cause. Now who is it?"

"It's…he's….oh, I can't say it! It's too humiliating!" Lothiriel plopped down on the ground and leaned her forehead on her knees.

"Very well, I'll guess. Let's see…he's obviously one of the Rohirrim, since this only started after we came to Edoras. A soldier, I presume?"

Lothiriel nodded mutely.

"And a noble, I hope? Not that it makes any difference to me, but I know your father…"

"Yes!" Groaned the figure huddled on the ground.

Eowyn sat down next to Lothiriel. "Well, I'd start in with hair color, but since we're all blonde here that wouldn't really narrow anything down."

Lothiriel lifted her head to glare at Eowyn. "How you find this so amusing when I'm so obviously in extreme agony is beyond my comprehension."

"Is he handsome?"

"Unbelievably so." Lothiriel hid her face again.

"Well, being in love with him, you would say that…let's see…does he reside at Meduseld with the court?"

"Yes."

"Halathain?"

"No."

"Erulehton?"

"No…although he is certainly handsome as well."

"Hmm…oh, I know! Eudoreth!"

Lothiriel let out an unladylike snort and burst into a fit of giggles. "Oh, yes, certainly. The sixty-year-old arms warden with seven bastard children is the man for me."

Eowyn laughed as well, but continued to list off names of all the eligible soldiers at Meduseld. Name after name was rejected. Finally, she threw up her hands in exasperation. "This is ridiculous! There's no one else except my brother, and by the way you act around him, I'd say you couldn't stand the man."

Silence.

Eowyn paused. "Lothiriel? You mean…Eomer?"

Lothiriel gave an anguished moan, thankful that if this embarrassing secret had to be revealed, at least it was night and Eowyn couldn't see her flaming cheeks.

**

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To LSOA: Hey, I hope you don't mind that I stole one of your names…I was running short of my own! I'll change it if you want.**


	2. Horseback Riding

**Notes:** I'm trying not to think about all the schoolwork I should be doing, because this is a much better way to spend a snow-day!

Lady Hades: You're the only one who picked up on that, but yes, there is a boy I have a crush on that inspired this story (along with lady scribe of avandell's plot idea!). Sorry to say, this is a shameless excuse for me to write out my struggles ;)

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Several mornings later, Lothiriel studied her reflection in her bedroom mirror. She was going riding in a few minutes with Eowyn, Faramir, and Ulthasos, the lord and captain of the host that had escorted them from Minas Tirith. Eomer was going as well.

Normally, for a day of riding (and, undoubtedly, racing), Lothiriel would have worn her old brown split skirt and a plain blouse, but because the King would be accompanying them she wanted to look her best. The deep green habit was tempting but, she felt, much too obvious, so she had settled on a royal blue dress that was boring and serviceable, but complimented her coloring and was more form-fitting than the brown. Her hair was plaited and pinned up, which, smoothed as it now was with water, looked nice, but Lothiriel knew that the minute she stepped outdoors the wind would blow it into a frizzy disarray that would be most unbecoming. Still, short of cutting it off, there was nothing she could do about it.

How she longed to be beautiful! Lothiriel was doomed, she thought, to spend the rest of her days envying Queen Arwen's grace and regality, and Eowyn's vivacious spirit. She knew she lacked both. Oh, she wasn't homely, by any means, but when she was in love with a King, who could have any woman he wanted as his wife.

_And that woman will certainly not be plump, with frizzy brown hair and freckles and a big nose and eyes that are neither blue nor gray. She will be lovely and blonde, with a flawless complexion and piercing sapphire eyes and a willowy figure. Not only that, but she will surely be delicate and graceful with a laugh like silver bells, and carry herself with dignity and poise…in short, the exact opposite of me._

_I will be nice. _Lothiriel told herself firmly. _I will be friendly, and I will laugh, and I will make jokes. I will be myself and I will forget all about Eomer and his stupid, beautiful green eyes._

Of course, it didn't work. From the moment he greeted her outside the stables, she was lost. Eomer, Eowyn, and Faramir were all waiting for her

"I bid you a good morning, Princess." Eomer said politely.

"My Lord," she replied, forcing a cheerful smile onto her face and adding a chipper attempt at conversation, "'Tis not merely good, but beautiful! If it were not for the wind it would be perfect." Lothiriel, remembering her resolutions, looked the king in the eye quickly. She could not hold his gaze for long without blushing.

"But Princess, the wind today is quite calm. Hardly more than a gentle breeze, I would say." Eomer gave her a small smile.

_Don't you dare blush!_ "Surely you are not being serious?" Lothiriel asked just as a gust from the North caught them full force, whipping her skirt into a frenzy around her knees.

Eomer nodded, his smile widening into a full-fledged grin. Clearly, he was enjoying her discomfort. For the first time, Lothiriel found herself slightly irritated by the man. It brought him, momentarily, anyway, down to a more approachable level.

"Well I shall simply write my intent of maintaining a well-groomed appearance off as a lost cause, then, and concentrate on enjoying my stay in your fair country!" Eomer laughed at Lothiriel's outburst.

Faramir spoke up. "Women spend too much time worrying about the way they look, anyway." Without bothering to help Eowyn to mount (Faramir had learned that lesson after making the mistake only once) swung gracefully onto his horse. Lothiriel felt a twinge of wistful appreciation at his skill. She herself was uncomfortable riding horses. She always felt as though she was going to tumble right off the saddle onto the ground, so she was never able to relax. She did love horses, though, and would spend spare moments at home in the stables, stroking their necks and telling them how beautiful they were.

With one easy movement that made Faramir look like an ungainly little boy, Eowyn was soon astride her mare. Lothiriel was used to being intimidated by her friend's skill, but when Eomer mounted he made even his sister look like an amateur. The man simply became a part of the horse…or was the horse already part of him? It was impossible to tell, so natural were their movements.

Her companions looked down at her expectantly, and Lothiriel realized she was delaying them. Nevertheless, she balked at the idea of these accomplished people watching her climb awkwardly into the saddle. So she stalled.

"Where is Ulthasos, do you suppose?" She asked, looking around her. There were many Rohirrim milling about, some in armor, others dressed for mucking out stables.

"He cannot come." Eowyn answered her. Lothiriel's heart sped up. She had counted on talking to the young man to distract herself from the King of Rohan. "He is slightly ill this morning. He sent word that it is nothing serious, merely an inconvenience."

Perceptive as always, Faramir read the subtle signs of panic in her face, but interepreted them wrongly. "Do not worry, cousin. You will be safe enough without the Captain. We will not go far from the city."

Lothiriel bristled. "I am not a delicate courtier, Faramir. I was not worried about matters of safety in the slightest."

Faramir wisely let the matter drop. Her dignity bruised, Lothiriel pulled herself onto her horse, keeping her head high and her back straight all the while. She stared straight ahead as they set out, her pursed lips daring anyone to comment on her riding ability.

Eowyn dropped back to ride next to her friend, pulling her out of hearing distance from Faramir and Eomer. "Relax, Lothiriel. What is the matter with you?"

"I am doing it again, aren't I? Acting standoffish and stuck up? I am sorry, Eowyn." Lothiriel said glumly, her shoulders drooping.

"Yes." Eowyn said bluntly.

Lothiriel smiled. "Thank you for putting it so tactfully, Eowyn. You always know how to spare my feelings."

Eowyn laughed. "And you are the only one besides Faramir and my brother that can always make me smile. I think perhaps your entire family is joyful, for your father is the same way. Always ready to be the best of friends with anyone. But despite that, a brilliant war commander as well."

Now it was Lothiriels turn to giggle. "I will be certain to tell him that when he arrives! Atar likes to think of himself as an imposing and formidable Lord of Gondor." She was quiet for a moment. "But he has considered you a daughter since the day he saw them carrying you into the city, Eowyn. And I want you to know that if I had a sister, I would want her to be like you."

There was a minute of companionable silence before Eowyn was attacked by a fit of laughter louder than any she had yet had. Lothiriel raised her eyebrows and teased her.

"What is the matter, Eowyn? Do you not wish to be my sister?"

"No, no!" Eowyn gasped between giggles. "I just realized…if you were my sister, then Eomer would be your brother!"

True to form, Lothiriel blushed.


	3. Scheming Relatives

**Author's Note: Ahhh…it's been so long! But now that I've got this plot all planned out, this should be goooooood….**

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Faramir knew he was a perceptive man. He had a gift for reading people's faces as though they were the books he loved so much. Most of the time, though, he felt the emotions of others were none of his business, and he tried to turn the other cheek and keep his nose out of things. Yet he found himself strangely fascinated by his cousin Lothiriel's infatuation with the King of Rohan.

The young Steward felt a pang of guilt as he studied them. Somehow, the fact that they were both family made him feel worse than usual about being privy –unwitting though his knowledge was- to their personal struggles. But he couldn't help noticing the way Lothiriel blushed slightly whenever she met Eomer's eyes. He tried unsuccessfully to ignore how her face lit up when she talked to the Horse Lord.

And most of all he tried not to see that Eomer, oblivious to Lothiriel's feelings, felt nothing beyond companionable friendship for the young princess.

Eowyn said something and Faramir answered, his mind elsewhere. Then his betrothed leaned over to put her hand on his knee and startled him into looking at her.

"Faramir, what are you thinking about? You just agreed that I should wear my armor to the wedding." Eowyn's eyes followed that path that Faramir's had taken a moment before. "Ahh, I see. Eomer!"

Her brother turned. "Yes?"

"I want a private word with Faramir for a moment. Why don't you take Lothiriel on ahead. We will meet you shortly at the overlook."

Eomer nodded and turned back to Lothiriel, whom he had been talking to. "What say you, my lady? Shall we race? It is not far."

Lothiriel fidgeted nervously. "I had better not, my lord. I- I'm not much of a rider, you see, and I've never ridden this path before…" Her voice trailed off.

Eomer looked disappointed, but he merely nodded again. "Very well." He led her off in an easterly direction while Faramir and Eowyn hung back.

Faramir sighed. As soon as they were out of earshot he and Eowyn looked at each other again.

"She is completely taken with him, is she not?" He asked, knowing the answer.

Eowyn glumly agreed. "Yes, but you know Eomer…he will never even notice her." They sat in comfortable silence, both contemplating the situation, for a moment before Eowyn spoke up again. "Faramir, love, I know I probably do not need to ask you this, but please do not mention this to anyone else. Lothiriel is the closest thing I have to a sister, and her feelings are delicate. If she thought everyone knew of her feelings for Eomer…"

"I know." Faramir interrupted her. "She would be destroyed. Her pride reminds me of another woman I know." They smiled at each other, thinking not of the dark days when they had first met, but of the overwhelming light and happiness that had shaped their lives soon afterward.

"I would be only to happy to meddle in their affairs, you know, if only I weren't so sure that my dear brother, brilliant soldier though he may be, will never recognize Lothiriel's worth. But what thinks the man who can read peoples hearts?"

Faramir chose his words carefully. "I love my cousin, Eowyn. She is a dear girl. I have knowin her her entire life. She has always had just the kind of fiery spirit and stubborn will that Eomer needs. But something happened a few years ago. She changed. She is quiet now, and shy, and has taught herself to hide behind cynicism and hopelessness to keep from behind disappointed. She does not trust herself enough around other people. I do not know what caused her to become thus, but I know she could change…if she wanted to badly enough."

Eowyn smiled. Faramir shivered in the sunlight. He knew that smile. It meant Eowyn had a plan, but a plan for what he knew not.

"What say you we make a wager, my Lord Steward?" Eowyn grinned.

Faramir was suspicious. "And what sort of wager would we be making, my Lady?"

"Why, a wager concerning my brother, of course. That's the best kind, if you ask me. You see, I have come to know Lothiriel very well these past months, and if there is one thing I have learned about her, it is that the best way to get results is to get her mad. She is slow to anger, but when reaches a point, nothing will stand between her and her objective."

Faramir nodded. "Indeed. But what has this to do with a wager?"

"I will wager you anything you like that by the end of next summer, you and I will be attending another wedding."

* * *

Up ahead, at the ridge that provided an amazing view of the plains of Rohan, Lothiriel's heart was hammering in her chest. They were talking! Really and truly having a conversation with questions and answers and laughter and everything! It was a dream come true.

She had thought that with her reluctance to race she had ruined everything, but Eomer was of course too much a gentleman to hold that against her, so they had talked all the way there. She told him of her homeland, and growing up beside the Sea. He was very interested in the Sea. Then he had regaled her with tales of his antics with Eowyn before the darkness had covered Rohan, and of his plans to reform the country to be as prosperous as it had once been.

Lothiriel was filled with hope. She told herself again that it didn't mean anything- he was just being friendly, after all- but she could not keep the smile off her face,

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**Me Again: There's LOTS more to come with this, and it's not going to end up the way you think it is. I promise! At least, I hope it doesn't...**


	4. Love Hurts

It was a beautiful wedding.

Lothiriel spent most of it watching Eomer. As the Maiden Attendant to the bride, she had an excellent view of the proceedings, and after Eomer placed Eowyn's hand in Faramir's, he stood right next to her.

Really, how could she pass up such an opportunity?

She had to be subtle about it, though. As embarrassing as it would have been for Eomer to discover her feelings for him, it would be immeasurably worse if any of the Gondorian nobles, her father and brothers included, who had arrived two days beforehand for the wedding, noticed. Lothiriel shuddered at the thought. They would find themselves in the midst of political rigmarole before they knew what hit them. So she contended herself with fleeting, casual glances and 'accidental' eye contact, and when the dancing started she deliberately snuck outside so she would be spared the agony of a polite dance with Eomer.

And to spare him, she had to admit, the agony of dancing with her and her two left feet.

The gardens at Meduseld were more functional than ornamental, but the staff went to great pains to see that they were at least eye pleasing. Fruit trees bordered pathways through beds of vegetables and herbs. A few shrubs were interspersed with small flowerbeds here and there, and tall stone walls shielded the area from the wind. After a few minutes of wandering, Lothiriel found herself near a small well. A grouping of trees nearby cast black shadows in the night. It was so dark that she didn't notice the archway in the wall until she heard voices.

Lothiriel slipped back into the trees, intending to leave the speakers to their private conversation. Her intentions were arrested, however, when she heard her name and recognized the two men talking.

"What about Princess Lothiriel, then? She's a nice girl," Erulehton's distinctive voice floated out of the archway. Lothiriel heard the crunch of boots on gravel.

"Yes, she is nice, but as you say, she's a girl."

There was amusement in Erulehton's voice when he replied, dryly, "Well, if you aren't interested in females that would explain why I'm having such a hard time getting you married off. You should have said something sooner."

Eomer uttered something remarkably akin to a growl. "You know quite well it's not like that, Erulehton." They stopped next to the well, Not two yards away, Lothiriel froze in her hiding place, trying to breathe quietly. Eomer continued, "I'm still getting used to being King. The idea of marrying some immature girl I barely know just for political stability is something I know I'll eventually have to come to terms with, but to be frank, the concept is nauseating. Right now I just want to concentrate on keeping this country together."

Erulehton was silent for a moment. "I'll respect your wishes then, my Lord," he said seriously before reverting to his usual manner, "but tell me, what do you have against the lovely Lothiriel?"

"What? I don't have anything against her. She's a very nice, friendly, good influence for my sister. I hope they remain friends."

"Then what did you mean earlier?"

"Oh, that? I just meant that the Princess seems very young, very little-girlish. By the Valar, she can barely ride a horse! If anyone swung a sword at her she'd probably scream and cover her eyes, or worse, faint dead away. No…she makes a fine family friend, but I would never marry a girl like that. Come on, we'd best be getting back." Eomer and Erulehton left the way they had come, through the archway that, Lothiriel vaguely realized, led to a side door in Meduseld.

_He thinks I'm a little girl!_ She sank to the ground, a dull ache starting in her chest. Stinging tears filled her eyes. _An immature little girl who would faint if I was attacked! How could I be so stupid as to think he might care for me?_ Lothiriel took a ragged breath, helpless to stop herself from crying. As the tears coursed down her face, she thought they must be drops of her broken heart.

Ulthasos had been sent by Prince Imrahil to find the Princess. He had been secretly thrilled with the duty. It would give him the chance to speak with Lothiriel again.

Ulthasos supposed he had been in love with the Princess for four years now. He remembered clearly the day she had turned eighteen. There had been a ball, and a ceremony whereupon her father recognized her as an adult member of the royal family, and conferred upon her the duties her mother had held, until such time as she married and moved away. As Princess of Dol Amroth, she was also given a private guard to see to her safety whenever she left the city and Ulthasos, an up-and-coming soldier and son of a nobleman, was given the honor.

In an ancient ceremony, the Princess had presented him with a sword, symbolizing his duty to protect her life in exchange for the privileges of nobility. She had looked so beautiful, Ulthasos recalled with longing, standing there proud as could be in her blue and silver court robes, so young and innocent and sweet.

He found her sitting against a tree, dirt-stained, her face still wet with tears.

"Princess!" He grasped his sword and knelt beside her. "What happened? Are you all right? Have you been hurt?" If anyone had attacked his princess, Ulthasos would kill him. Plain and simple.

The Princess sniffed and looked up at him. She met his eyes and looked away. "N-no, Ulthasos, I'm fine. I…I've just received word that a dear friend of mine is ill. We must leave for home right away. Tomorrow at dawn."

She was lying, of course. But he could hardly accuse her of doing so. Ulthasos loved his position, but sometimes it was a strain on his self-control not to take the Princess in his arms and keep her safe. He sighed.

"As you wish, Princess. I will speak to your father, and…"

"No!" Lothiriel jumped to her feet and grabbed his arm. "I shall tell father. Please go ready the soldiers I came here with, Ulthasos. I will take care of the rest. Thank you."

Ulthasos nodded and reluctantly walked back towards Meduseld.

Lothiriel didn't like lying to her father and brothers, and she hated lying to Eowyn on her wedding night. But she couldn't very well cry on her friend's shoulder tonight- this was her day, after all. So she made a quiet exit to go pack, and said a guilty farewell to Eowyn before turning in for the night.

Unfortunately, Faramir caught her on her way to her chamber.

"All right, cousin. What really happened? What are you running away from?"

"Shouldn't you be with your new wife, Faramir? It's getting late…you should be on your way to the bridal chamber!" Goodness, where had _that_ come from? Lothiriel was surprised. She never said things like that.

Faramir had the grace to blush- and the insight to wonder at Lothiriel's uncharacteristic teasing. "You can lie to everyone else, but not to me."

"You're using the Sight, aren't you? Faramir, you _promised_ never to do that to me!"

"I can't help it! Your emotions are running so hard right now that I can't block them out. Just tell me what's made you so upset. I know it has to do with Eomer."

Lothiriel froze. Slowly, she spoke. "Yes, it does. But it's not his fault, Faramir. Even I have to admit that. It's my own doing. I was foolish enough to let myself fall for him, and I have only myself to blame for my disappointment."

Faramir studied her face. He could feel her pain, her sadness- but there was something else there, too. Steel in her gray-blue eyes. Stubbornness in her chin. A determined set to her mouth.

Excellent. She was plotting something.

"You know, Lothiriel, these past years I have worried about you. I thought perhaps the duties your father gave you were too much, too soon. But whatever it is he did, Eomer inadvertently brought out the old Lothiriel. So this plan you have up your sleeve- whatever it may be- I hope it goes well." With that, Faramir returned to the crowd.

Lothiriel was left staring after him. Why did Faramir have to be so cryptic?

She hadn't even been aware that she _had_ a plan.


	5. Time Can Do So Much

**AN: Well, here I am again. Thanks for all the reviews! Someday I'll get around to writing personal responses to all of them.  
I'm proud of this chapter. It's long! I worked on it every night this week, a little at a time. Hopefully in the next update you'll be able to tell where my plot is going.

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**

One year later…

She couldn't get rid of the freckles.

Everything else had gone according to play, but the freckles defied her. Lothiriel had tried everything- lemon juice, egg yolks, some very expensive and suspicious-looking concoctions she had purchased from a Haradrim woman- but nothing worked. The sprinkling of light brown dots across her nose refused to go away.

Sighing, she looked away from the mirror and turned instead to the northward-facing window of her tower room. It commanded an excellent view of the main city gates, and had afforded her the knowledge that the party from Ithilien was approaching swiftly.

Lothiriel was looking forward to seeing her favorite cousin again. Eowyn was her best friend. The Princess was also eager to become better acquainted with the Queen Evenstar and King Elessar.

But, she admitted to herself, she was most anxious to greet again the King of Rohan, Eomer Eadig. Eomer had visited his sister in Ithilien, then accompanied Eowyn and Faramir through Minas Tirith and southward to Dol Amroth.

Their visitors were rapidly approaching. Lothiriel took a deep breath, straightened her back, and opened her door. There was a young guardsman in the hallway.

"Kylar, please inform Ulthasos that I will ride out to meet our guests. Have him send a message to Atar as well."

Kylar bowed his head politely and set off to find his commander. Lothiriel considered briefly the formality of the Princess' Guard. The custom had not bothered her at first- she had merely taken it as a matter of course. After all, it was tradition, and she was used to having soldiers follow her everywhere she went outside the palace. It was only safe. Since her return from Rohan the previous year, however, she had found the practice more and more of a nuisance. She longed for privacy and freedom; to be able to go where she wanted and do whatever she liked without being watched.

"This is the price we pay for our blessings," Lothiriel murmured, quoting her father. "'We are given the opportunity to live in luxury while maintaining the good of the people of the city. In return for wealth and privilege we give up the security of anonymity.'" She sighed mentally: the speech was a familiar one.

Lothiriel set out briskly through the labyrinth-like passageways of the palace. It was a rambling place with many meandering passageways that lacked a wall here or a ceiling there. As a result, what rooms were enclosed were filled with the scent of flowers and the ocean year-round, for the City was a southern one. The walls were of white stone, with silvery tiles covering the roof from which the Swan flew.

Ulthasos was waiting for her in the stables. He gave his customary bow and smiled in greeting. "Princess."

"I did not expect your personal escort, Ulthasos. There is no danger- if you have something more important to do one of your lieutenants would be sufficient guard," Lothiriel said in protest of his presence. Any Guard at all would be an annoyance, but somehow Ulthasos was worse. Sometimes she thought he took his job too seriously.

"Nothing is more important than your safety, Princess." Lothiriel mentally rolled her eyes but held her tongue as the man continued with a grin, "But no, I don't have anything else to do."

"Very well." Lothiriel's white mare, Anatidae, was saddled and ready, but something was wrong. She glared suddenly at Ulthasos. "You've been meddling again, Ulthasos."

The guard briefly thought to play dumb, but wisely decided that Lothiriel would never fall for that. "Princess, it would not be seemly for State visitors to see you riding astride. I thought you would prefer to ride sidesaddle for today at least."

"You thought wrong!" Lothiriel snapped. She turned away and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, that was quite rude of me, but I _will_ ride astride. Please resaddle Anatidae." She did not look back until she heard Ulthasos finish the job. He looked sullen. _Serves him right! _Lothiriel thought. _It's none of his business. Besides, the Rohirrim women ride astride always, so I doubt visitors from Rohan will care._

Ulthasos uneasily obeyed her.

* * *

Faramir hadn't been exaggerating, Eomer admitted to himself. Dol Amroth was stunning. The midday sun reflected off the white stone gave the impression that the entire city was glowing with heavenly beauty. Beyond, the sea glimmered in undulating turquoise waves. Despite his glorious surroundings, though, Eomer felt a pang of longing for the wide plains and Golden Hall of Rohan.

He missed the people as well. Halathain and Erulehton were with him, true, and Valar knew he loved seeing Eowyn…but he felt the lack of the commoners, as well. The small farmers, the horse-breeders, the crafty merchants- _they_ were Rohan. The people he served.

"The city is as grand as they said!" Halathain observed, awe in his voice. Eomer bristled.

"Indeed, it is grand. But I find it lacking in a golden roof," He shot Halathain a Look.

Faramir laughed. "Never let one of the natives hear you say such or you will be treated to hours of discourse on the noble history of the City. And that is another thing! You must begin thinking of it as the City- with a capital at the beginning. Don't ask me how, but the Cityfolk can tell even by your speech if you do not. They would consider it a dishonor."

Eowyn joined the conversation. "Perhaps most would, but I never heard a hint from Lothiriel about this touchy pride you say the Cityfolk have."

"That is because the Princess is a timid lady. She struck me as too kind and meek to be sensitive about something so trivial," Eomer said. He had scattered memories of Lothiriel- just another well-bred noblewoman. Pleasant, but unremarkable. "Who is that riding out to meet us?"

Everyone looked at the road ahead. They were less than a mile from the main gate of Dol Amroth. Two people on horseback were approaching them.

"A man and a woman, but I don't recognize them," Eomer remarked. "Not that that's any surprise. Riding quite fast, in fact." He looked at Faramir in time to catch his brother's grin.

"What's this? Your memory has failed you, Eadig!"

Eomer frowned at the comment and the sobriquet. "What do you mean?" Again he studied the approaching riders. There was something familiar about the lady.

"There, riding astride at a swift pace, is your meek, timid Lothiriel!"

* * *

As the wind rushed into her face, Lothiriel reflected on the past year. Eomer's words at the wedding at embarrassed and shamed her at first, but her feelings had soon changed to indignation and even anger. She was NOT a little girl, and he had no right to refer to her as such. She was the Princess of Dol Amroth!

And it was time she started acting like it.

The first thing she did was learn to ride. For that she had gone to her youngest brother, Amrothos. Amrothos was a student of nature, with a love for all living things that manifested itself in an affinity to animals, horses included. He taught Lothiriel how to trust the animal to take care of her and how, in turn, to earn the horse's confidence. They rode for hours each day until Lothiriel was accomplished at both sidesaddle and the normal style of riding. Eventually, she learned to enjoy the feel of the horse's smooth movements beneath her, the sense of adventure that came with an all-out gallop, and the sensation of the clean sea-air washing over her.

After that, she had turned to Elphir, the eldest of Imrahil's children and future Prince. From him, Lothiriel had learned what she could about diplomacy and politics. Most important, however, was the lesson he had given her just before going into conference with a group of Haradrim.

"You must never, ever show the slightest bit of self-doubt or fear. If you do, all is lost, for you can never regain that kind of respect. Always exude an aura that is confident, calm, and controlled," Elphir had paused. "Your pretty face won't hurt, either!" For by that time, Lothiriel had put into effect the final stage of her plan.

Her looks had always been a source of consternation for her. On one hand, she desired to be beautiful and graceful, while on the other she scorned the ladies of the aristocracy who seemed to have nothing but cosmetic puffs for brains. But she decided that she could not prove Eomer truly wrong until she looked older and more confident.

Lothiriel began taking daily walks through the City. Her body slowly grew leaner, darker, and more toned. In addition, she incorporated fish and local vegetables that her maids swore were the best thing for staying slim into her diet. All local remedies for freckles, however, proved useless, and the freckles remained.

Her walks served another purpose, as well. Lothiriel visited every herbalist's shop in the City that she could find, and some that Ulthasos would never have let her go in had he been on duty the days she carefully selected to visit such places. At each location she would approach the proprietor and inquire after hair potions. Every shop had one 'guaranteed' to perform miracles, but only one actually worked. She found it at a small, hole-in-the-wall establishment in a poor but respectable part of the City, and it worked nearly immediate wonders. Suddenly her mane was manageable. The curls loosened and became glossy, responding for once to the demands of the maid who dressed them.

Yes, it had been a long haul. But as she reigned in Anatidae in front of the handsome King of Rohan, she couldn't help but think that it had definitely been worth it. The look of disbelief on his face was priceless.


	6. Back in the Saddle

**Notes: Thanks for the reviews! I love hearing your feedback, each and every one of you. My mom is taking me to see 'A Lot Like Love' tonight, so I'm hoping to get some ideas from that movie. ;)**

**Notes two weeks later: Sorry for the delays. It was hectic this month, and then I couldn't get the disk to work to move this from one computer to another...

* * *

**

Eomer was confused. His memories of Lothiriel involved a quiet, pleasant girl who looked like she should still have a governess. Could this vibrant woman really be the Princess? He examined her approaching form more closely.

The horse was first under his scrutiny (Eomer was King of Rohan, after all). A finely-bred snowy mare, dappled with silver and distantly descended, if he didn't miss his guess, from a Meara or two. Quick legs, head held high…really, a beautiful animal. _Firefoot would beat her in a race,_ he thought loyally, _but she's nothing to sneeze at!_

_And the girl's not bad, either. No, I have to start thinking of her as a woman now. A Princess at that!_ For Lothiriel did indeed look the part. Her hair was smoothed and coiled around her head, with curls framing her face. Thinner after a year, her features were more defined, though still freckled. She was wearing a light green riding habit with…by the Powers! Lothiriel was wearing breeches underneath her skirt.

Eomer found himself wondering where, besides her face, Lothiriel had freckles.

* * *

By the time Ulthasos had noticed that Lothiriel was wearing breeches under her dress, it was too late to send her back to the Palace to change. He settled for a harsh lecture on decorum, which she grimly turned a deaf ear to. As she came closer to the visitors, however, Lothiriel began rethinking her decision. It wasn't exactly ladylike.

_He thought you a little girl!_ She reminded herself. Straightening her shoulders, she smiled and greeted the party.

"Welcome, my friends, to the great City of Dol Amroth! I am sorry my father could not be here to meet you himself. He was detained by inclement weather on Lebbaini Island, but he should return by tomorrow night at the latest. In the meantime, I hope you will allow me to guide you to the Palace, where you will stay as our guests for as long as you desire." Lothiriel took a deep breath, "And now that that formality's over it's wonderful to see you all again!"

Eowyn went forward and enveloped the Princess in a hug. "Lothiriel! You have changed so much since I last saw you. You look magnificent!"

Lothiriel blushed and thanked her friend. Death, taxes, and blushing, she thought wryly. "As do you. Marriage must be treating you well."

Faramir and Eowyn shared a smile and joined hands. "I have missed you, cousin. It has been too long," Faramir said. He scrutinized Lothiriel, looking pleased.

"Faramir," she warned. He raised his hands in a gesture of innocence. Eomer cleared his throat. Heart pounding, Lothiriel turned to the King.

"My Lord, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance again."

"Lady, the pleasure is all mine," Eomer said sincerely, inclining his head. He smiled at her.

Every tender feeling Lothiriel had ever held for him and thought she had grown out of came rushing back in one fell swoop. She blushed again, mentally berating herself for the show of approachability.

"I owe you an apology, my lady. My memories of you did not do justice to your beauty," Eomer continued. He lowered his head in a gesture of true remorse, but when he raised his eyes they were alight with intent. Lothiriel recognized the look. It was the same one her brother Erchirion had had on his face when he had first seen Jullin, the courtier who had within a month become his wife. The gossips were still talking about it, though the events occurred years ago, but at least it was kind talk of the 'beauty of love' and how nice it was that the charming Erchirion had found such happiness. The look was much different when one was receiving it than when one was observing it, however.

_Valar protect me from reverting to my old self,_ Lothiriel prayed frantically.

Her plea for heavenly assistance was cut short by Ulthasos. The guard suddenly rode forward, hand on his sword, until he was between the Princess and the King. "His highness is too forward in his manner, Princess," he said to Lothiriel, but his eyes were on Eomer.

Angry at his interference, Lothiriel started to order Ulthasos back to the City, but she was cut off.

"And who are you to tell say so? Your Princess knows how to receive a compliment graciously, perhaps she can teach you how to hold your tongue. I have no fear that if she is displeased with my conversation, she will hesitate to tell me so in no uncertain terms"

Lothiriel was horrified to see Eomer's hand gripping his sword hilt as well. His eyes were narrowed, and he looked exceedingly dangerous. Again, she tried to intervene and again she could not get a word in.

"Compliment? I know of you, Eomer of Rohan. Think you I would allow the Princess to ride outside the City to meet visitors I had not thoroughly researched? You compliment no woman without intending further liberties." Ulthasos rode closer to Eomer, blocking Lothiriel's view. Her mouth hung open in shock. What was Ulthasos doing?

"I see by your livery that you are of her private guard. Very well, then, when I pose a threat to your Princess' life or her health you may, with my blessing, attack me. But word play is hardly cause for intrusion into the conversation of your liege, and a dangerous rationale for threatening me. You insult my honor. Not only that, you insult your Lady by suggesting that she would allow any 'liberties,' as you call them."

Eowyn was looking from her brother to Ulthasos and back again. Faramir had a small smile on his face and one brow raised slightly. Halathain looked amused, and Erulehton was grinning outright.

"PARDON ME!" Lothiriel shouted.

Eomer and Ulthasos turned to look at her. Ulthasos fell back a short distance until Lothiriel could see both men, looking defiant and thoroughly unrepentant.

"Ulthasos, you have well overstepped your bounds." Lothiriel glared at her guard. "My Lord Eomer," she added crisply, "is a family friend, a King and a better soldier than you will ever be. I counsel you to take that into consideration before you speak rashly again. Your punishment will be dealt with privately."

She took a deep breath and turned to Eomer. "But I would like to make clear to BOTH of you that I thoroughly resent being discussed as though I am neither capable of defending myself nor even present at all!" Lothiriel turned in a triumphant huff to Eowyn and Faramir. "Lord Faramir, Lady Eowyn, I trust you are ready to reach the City? You must be fatigued from your long journey."

* * *

Eomer wondered how it was possible for someone to _flounce_ indignantly on horseback. He had never before witnessed such a phenomenon but, her nose held high in the air, Lothiriel seemed to be accomplishing it.

"Well, my friend, it appears you have made another stunning conquest!" Erulehton interrupted Eomer's thoughts when they were out of earshot of the rest of the party. "Offending a lady within five minutes of meeting her…that is a new record, even for you!"

Eomer looked over to see his friend laughing his head off. "I was only trying to put that idiot guard in his place," he grumbled. "She took it the wrong way!"

"And how was she supposed to take it?" Erulehton asked.

They were very near the City gates now. Eomer studied the beautiful masonry and delicate metalsmithing. Gates like that, he observed, were more decorative than functional. He hesitated before answering Erulehton.

"I…that is….'Lehton?"

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Just let it go."

Erulehton grinned widely. "Not another word about it!" Eomer sighed in relief before the ambassador finished, "at least not tonight, anyway."


	7. Jitters

**Author's Note: Sorry it took so long...I have absolutely no excuse since it's summer and I have no job. I'm just struggling a bit with where the story should go from here. Seems I always reach this point and take a sabbatical. Anyway, hope ya like it!

* * *

**

_ He watched them from behind his mask of innocence. They rode into the City side by side, the foreigner flirting shamelessly with the Princess. My Princess, he thought, she has always been mine. How could she not see through the foreigner's façade to his true intent? He would use her- ruin her and leave her. But he had expected better of his Princess. She had been suitably cold to the foreigner when they entered the City but as they approached the Palace her manner relaxed, and she even dared to smile._

_ How could she betray him so?

* * *

_

Lothiriel closed her door behind her and leaned against it. The ride through the City had been draining…not physically, and not quite emotionally, but in some way. Eomer had been his most charming, admiring the City until she was forced to forgive him. They had parted on good terms, and he had maintained a respectful manner rather than flirting with her again. Somehow this disappointed her. How, she wondered, could he still have such an effect on her, after a year's time? There had been days when she hadn't thought of him…all right, not very many, and never more than one at a time, but still. There had been days

And yet he had affixed himself so firmly in her imagination that it was not at all difficult for him to begin worming his way into her heart.

Suddenly Lothiriel raised her head and smiled. At least she had made an impression on Eomer! He had most definitely noticed the changes in her and, if she didn't miss her guess, he liked them. She wondered if she could go through with the rest of her plan- the part that involved ignoring Eomer- or if she would be a coward. After all, she only really _had_ to get through tonight. Tomorrow her father would return and take over diplomatic concerns. She would not have to see the King if she did not wish to.

"Oh, but Valar, how I wish to!" She whispered.

Crossing to a window, Lothiriel gazed out across the ocean. That was the benefit of a tower room: there was a view to every direction. But the turquoise sea wasn't enough to placate the unease she felt when she recalled her conversation with Ulthasos upon their arrival at the Palace..

* * *

The guests had been shown to their rooms to rest after their journey, and she had made plans to meet Eowyn before dinner to reaquaint themselves with one another. Then she had confronted her wayward Guard.

"Ulthasos, I don't have to tell you how inappropriate your interference today was. You know I respect your judgement, but speaking out against a guest? And a King at that!"

Ulthasos' face was blank, but Lothiriel could see his jaw stiffen. "The Princess should not be spoken to in such a manner. I stand by that conviction, my lady," he said firmly, staring at the wall over her shoulder.

Internally, Lothiriel groaned. Why couldn't he have apologized? Then she could have let the matter drop. "Then I'm sorry, Ulthasos, but I am removing you from your duties for the next two weeks."

Ulthasos' gaze snapped to meet Lothiriel's. He looked shocked. "But Lady, who will see to your safety? Who will accompany you on your walks? You cannot go out alone!"

Lothiriel bristled. Her chin raised a perceptable amount. "_I_ will see to my own safety. I will make arrangements as I see fit and maybe I will prove to you that I am not the helpless girl I was four years ago." She took a deep, calming breath. "You are dismissed."

She almost thought she heard Ulthasos mutter "Perhaps you would be better off if you had remained that girl," as he walked away. Surely not. Lothiriel pursed her lips and headed to her chamber. Her unfounded dislike for Ulthasos' protectiveness was the product of her imagination and nothing more.

* * *

Eowyn ambushed Lothiriel as soon as the Princess reached the gardens.

"I thought we were meeting before dinner?" Lothiriel said with a smile. She certainly didn't mind seeing Eowyn beforehand but she had been startled.

"I could not wait that long to barrage you with questions. You must tell me what you have been doing with yourself this past year, Lothiriel! You look splendid!" They sat down on a stone bench near a misting fountain in the shape of a swan.

"And you must tell me all about married life! You are not much of a correspondant, Eowyn," Lothiriel teased.

"Well, not all of us are as prolific as you with the written word." Eowyn paused to take in the flowering bushes, meandering paths and secluded groves surrounding them. "You have described the City to me so well in your letters I almost feel as if I have been here before." She jerked her eyes back to Lothiriel. "But do not try to change the subject. Tell me what you have been up to!"

So Lothiriel told her. She related her trials and triumphs as they wandered through the gardens, pausing to watch the sun beginning to set over the ocean. There were humorous anecdotes about her hair potions, and about the people she met on her walks through the City. There were reminiscences of learning to ride well and stand up for herself.

There was no mention of Lothiriel's primary motivation. Eowyn noticed and, being the forthright person that she was, asked about it.

"I simply…grew weary of being glanced at and disregarded. I want people to see me, Eowyn, to notice that I not only exist but that I have something to offer. But most of all I suppose I want excitement…adventure…and that sort of thing only seems to happen to beautiful women." Thought Lothiriel didn't say it out loud, Eowyn could hear it in her voice: _it happened to you, Eowyn_.

She sighed and looked away. No one except Faramir and Eomer had ever understood that her conduct during the War had not stemmed from a desire to see battle. It had been a cry for help, for love, for a way out of the llife that had begun to stifle her. Perhaps, she thought, this was Lothiriel's way of doing the same thing.

Or maybe Lothiriel still had feelings for Eomer and was trying to avoid mentioning any of this to his sister.

Either way, Eowyn felt a word of caution was necessary. "I am going to give you one piece of advice and then I vow I will let you go about your business. Do not go searching for adventure. It nearly always ends badly. If you are meant for it, it will come to you."

* * *

Dinner was a casual affair that night. Lothiriel had assumed that the travellers would prefer a quiet meal without the hassles of politics and introductions their first night in Dol Amroth- Faramir and Eowyn were family, after all, and the rest were friends. That fact had not stopped her from wearing a low-cut gown to dinner, however, a fact that Hysel noticed with glee when she dressed Lothiriel's hair.

"Oooh, my lady, I'm so glad you decided to wear this gown. 'Twill surely drive those handsome foreigners wild!"

Lothiriel winced as Hysel yanked on her curls. She had long since ceased protesting the painful hours spent submitting to the maid's treatment—her hair always looked stunningly manageable afterwards. "I don't know what you're talking about, Hysel. I merely felt like dressing up tonight, that's all."

"I hope you don't mind me saying so, my lady, but you are a terrible liar."

_ Wonderful_, Lothiriel seethed, _I can't even keep from blushing in front of my maid!_ Finally, her hair was swept up to Hysel's satisfaction and Lothiriel was free to don the silk gown lying ready across her bed.

Or she would be if she could find the courage.

It wasn't that the dress was particularly daring. Except for a low neckline the rest was actually quite modest. At least that's what the dressmaker had said when Lothiriel had let Anniel, a young, flirty courtier about her age, talk her into ordering some new to what was fashionalbe, Anniel assured her, Lothiriel's wardrobe bordered on dowdy. So, in keeping with her vow to change her image, the Princess had submitted. Within reason.

It was just that the dress was rather daring _for her_. Creamy white satin hugged her curves just past her hips and then flared gently into cascades of fabric that parted in front to reveal shimmering silver underskirts. Really, it was beautiful.

Hysel nudged her slightly towards the bed. "Go in, Lady. You don't want to be late."

Lothiriel let out a very un-princess-like groan. She had a bad feeling about this.


End file.
